But life had other plans
by Meta-Akira
Summary: A day in the life of a rogue with chronic backstabbing disorder was rarely dull. All things considered, though, life was going to get a lot more interesting after a chance encounter with an occupied burlap sack. A series of semi-chronological Colosseum one-shots. Eventual Wes/Rui
1. Gonzap- Under your thumb

Gonzap was often torn when it came to his top snagger. Because truth be told, he wasn't exactly "his" top snagger to begin with.  
Wes was hardly some grunt who could be kicked around and bent like so many men's elbows twisted into a full nelson to do any orders that Gonzap barked at him. The young rogue was quiet and not in the least talkative or social, but he always managed to reserve a sizeable portion of cheek and deadpan sarcasm for the Leader of Snagem, and honestly, it downright infuriated Gonzap. He couldn't force the rogue to be more compliant, no matter what he threatened.  
But then the mercenary would routinely outperform Gonzap's grunts by leagues and pulled in more Pokemon than most of his team could do combined on a decent day. He really should have had little to complain about, really.

However, the quiet young man would say something so subtly laced with condescension that Gonzap really wondered if it wasn't worth it to wring the kid's neck and be done with it. Gonzap's carefully sculpted eyebrows twitched as his brow furrowed in frustration.

But in the end, the payoff was always more inviting than his vendetta against some no-name thief with a smart mouth.

Anyways, he knew that at least Wes wouldn't dare to rat on Snagem. The team constantly called on him for jobs, and Gonzap was his main source of income. Without them, he'd be some nobody pickpocket, swiping meager wallets off some poor saps in a seedy alleyway in Pyrite or something. Without Snagem, Wes had nothing.

Gonzap leaned back behind his desk, the beat-up leather chair squealing sharply in protest against the weight of the massive muscle-bound man abusing its facilities. He grinned smugly up at the ceiling. Perhaps he underestimated his power over Wes after all. His smile grew with satisfaction at the idea that he had the sandy-haired youth under his thumb.

Yes, that gold-eyed freak with his two mangy foxes was nothing without Gonzap.

"That brat'll never raise a hand against us," he muttered, resigning himself to a well-earned nap during a peaceful, money-making day.

A cacophonic crash of crumbling concrete and screeching metal chose that moment to prove his indulgent daydreams so very, utterly wrong.

 **((Oh goodness! Hello after God knows how long!**  
 **Bet most of you forgot I was even here, and I don't blame you, honestly.**

 **I decided to go with this project on a whim, to tune up my writing skills. Because after how long it's been, I'm definitely rusty. When I get back into the swing of things, I will get back to working on Time's Design (it's still my baby), and I'll eventually be reworking my other stories that have been on a much-too-long hiatus.**

 **But anyways, this is going to be a series of Pokemon Colosseum one-shots, sort of chronological, connected to each other, but can still sort of stand on their own. Eventually there will be bits of Wes x Rui sprinkled in later chapters, but I'll be exploring other themes and occasionally characters as well. Glad to be back!**

 **See ya!**  
 **~Akira**


	2. Wes- Go out with a bang

**Meant to get this chapter done sooner, but I ended up rewriting it because it didn't flow like I wanted it to.**  
 **I think I might enjoy this sort of story pacing though.**

 **(~)**

It was no small coincidence that Wes was the greatest Snagger to work for Team Snagem, much to Gonzap's mix of pleasure and chagrin. No, it was skill, a good bit of luck. But mostly observance.

He reached out and scratched behind the lavender ear of his Espeon. The creature leaned into his touch appreciatively as the rogue mulled things over in his mind.

If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his observational skills. His sharp amber eyes were as keen as a Fearow's. He could pick out a single target in a crowd. He could read a person's body language to tell if they were lying. He could juggle battle strategies and escape routes in his head on the fly, depending on his surroundings.

And he could tell that Gonzap was up to even shadier business than usual.

It left a bitter taste in his mouth, having to rely on Team Snagem so often for "employment opportunities" as Biden so pleasantly put it. If he had his way, Wes would turn around and never look back. But Snagem paid well for his services.

Stealing money or items had never really had much impact on Wes' rather unconventional moral code. Stealing Pokemon was another matter entirely. In a region where wild Pokemon was as scarce as water in a… well, desert, you were lucky to have one. But he'd always managed to meet the quota that Gonzap had set. He always kept his eyes peeled for those who saw Pokemon more as tools and status symbols rather than actual beings. He had no issue with stealing from other nastier criminals, or lifting from the rare wealthy person who would genuinely show their Pokemon more interest if the creatures were gilded in gold and came with a lucrative business merger.

But as of the past few months, Gonzap had been jacking up Wes' quota, higher and higher. It was getting difficult to keep his pickings among acceptable targets. And thanks to Wes' keen eye, he quickly realized that despite the higher expected income of stolen Pokemon, none of the criminal organization- even Gonzap – showed an influx of Pokemon or strength on their teams.

They had to be going somewhere. And he was sure he wasn't liking the implications. Selling Pokemon on the black market was a roaring niche in the region despite the best efforts of the honestly inadequate police force to quash it. And yet…

For all the time Wes had known about Snagem and its ruthless wall of a leader, he could tell that they prioritized power over everything else. Money was all well and good, but Gonzap craved complete authority and influence. He wanted his name to strike fear and submission into the hearts of all who heard it. Compared to that, money was an added perk. He would rather bully people out of their money with a terrifying army of monsters under his command. He wasn't the type to do back alley dealings to sell off what he could use for himself.

No, something was not right, he thought as he glanced out the dirty, shattered window of the base. A rusty, battered jeep had pulled up to the hideout, and two figures jumped from their seats, strutting up to the hideout doors with a swagger in their step that suggested they owned the place.

The odd hat and the garish fireball of hair. Those two were not members of Snagem, Wes knew that much. But he'd been glimpsing them from afar more and more often at the headquarters. They would come in, be lead to Gonzap's trash heap of an office, and engage him in private conversation for anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours. And he doubted there was a coincidence in the fact that Gonzap obtained an extraordinarily vicious Skarmory sometime after these visits had become regular. The thing had, according to rumor, nearly gutted a Snagem grunt who accidentally disturbed its sleep one morning. He'd heard Gonzap's booming voice gloating about it through the halls.

Wes sat back, staring out the window, eyes narrowing. His Espeon glanced up at him, noting his master's guarded expression. His Umbreon continued to snooze on the bed. Silence stretched as the sun started to sink towards the sandy horizon.

And then, as usual, he saw the two leave. They were laughing raucously, a sack thrown over Fireball's shoulder as they strutted back to the jeep. Even from this distance, the rogue was sure that the sack was filled with capsules containing stolen Pokemon.

Wes thought it was about time he resigned from Team Snagem's employment. He hoped Gonzap wouldn't mind too terribly if he didn't give him two weeks' notice. But perhaps he could leave them a going-away surprise. Go out with a _bang_ …

A grin flickered on the edges of his face.


	3. Rui- Gut feeling

**Wow, two chapters in less than twenty-four hours when before last month I hadn't posted anything in years. I'd be concerned if I wasn't so excited about writing this story.**

 **(~)**

It felt like a furnace, she thought, as a bead of perspiration rolled down her forehead and into her eyes. She winced, raising a hand to swipe away the drop of salty water. Certainly her homeland of Johto never experienced such stifling temperatures. It felt like she was surrounded by a roaring fire. The tinny whirr of a metal fan giving its best effort to create some semblance of a breeze in the cramped little customs and reception building of Gateon Port was all that could be heard in the layer of heat that seemed to suffocate sound itself.

The redhaired girl surreptitiously scooted to her right a bit, glancing at the official behind the desk. If she concentrated, she could perceive a dull waver flickering around him. His aura looked as lethargic as he did. The official paid her no mind as he examined the passports and papers of the- extremely small, actually –influx of people traveling to Orre from another region. It looked like only about a dozen other people had gotten off the boat with her on the stop to fuel up.

Orre was… not exactly a small region. But its size was quite disproportionate to its population. Most of the region was made up of stretches of sand or hard-packed, infertile soil. It was a brutal place, and whatever people lived here consolidated into a tiny handful of cities and towns scattered across the map with long distances between them. From what she'd heard, only several of them were even hospitable for travelers, and the rest ran rampant with crime. And according to a quick internet search, its population of wild Pokemon was at a critically low point. All in all, it was the very antithesis of the verdant, lively region of Johto.

To be honest, if her grandparents didn't live in one of the few patches of lush land in the region, she wouldn't be the least bit disappointed if she never set foot in the land of Orre.

She reached up, hesitantly, as if she would be scolded, and slid open the window behind her. It let in a hot, but welcome breeze of salty ocean air. Better salty than stagnant. She nearly nodded off in the dry heat.

"Rui Mirei?"

She snapped out of her light doze and glanced up at the bored voice, and saw the man at the desk looking uninterestedly at her. The redhead got up, pulling her suitcase with her.

"That would be me," she replied, tightening her grip on the handle of her bag.

"Your passport checks out. There's a bus leaving for Agate in half an hour," the man with the sluggish aura droned, sliding her documentation over the top of the desk and glancing back at his rather outdated desktop computer.

"Welcome to Orre," he stated with not an ounce of enthusiasm in his voice.

"Um… th-thank you," she said over her shoulder, eager to get out of the stifling little building. The sooner she got to Agate, the better. From what her Grandma Beluh had told her, it was a beautiful place. And beautiful would be a welcome change.

She rolled her suitcase behind her, wincing from the harshness of the sun. It wasn't even midday, and it was already scorching. She came to a brief halt, rummaging in her pocket for a couple elastic hairties, and pulled her short red hair up into two high pigtails. Already, sweat had accumulated on the back of her neck, and she was grateful that she could get her hair out of the way.

It took her not fifteen minutes to walk to the bus station. The buses looked woebegone and decades old. Hardly anyone commuted, and the tourist trade flourished about as much as the wild Pokemon population.

"Wouldn't recommend waitin' 'round in them buses, lil' lady," the driver told her with a gap-toothed smile. "They don't got proper air conditionin', and we ain't leavin' fer a good twen'y minutes yet. Just toss yer stuff in the cargo hold, an' stretch yer lil' legs while ya can. S'gonna be a long drive."

So with a sigh, it was back out into the sun. Rui couldn't help the uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. She felt completely out of place in this run-down port town. She wasn't used to the blazing heat and the people and their auras seemed oddly unfriendly.

The sooner she got to Agate, the better.

She kicked a dislodged chunk of cement across the ground as she wandered aimlessly through the streets, wondering if there was a shop nearby with some air conditioning that she could take shelter in for the time being. Being fair skinned meant she was going to be constantly in danger of a bad sunburn if she stayed outside for too long.

Just as that thought crossed her mind, she shuddered. As paradoxical as it seemed, a cold chill ran down her spine. The girl's muscles tensed up, and she cast her blue gaze around nervously.

 _You're being silly. You are just on edge because you're in an unfamiliar place_ , her mind whispered to her. But she knew better than to ignore her gut feelings.

She turned on her heel, and found what. She recoiled, fearful, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Not too far away, stood two men facing down a third. A fallen Machop lay wincing on the ground. Towering above it stood a yellow Pokemon she'd never seen. It was still kicking at the Machop laying at its feet despite the protestations of the Machop's trainer. Finally, the man caved and returned the bruised and bloodied fighting type, shouting obscenities at the two who were cackling in response.

"That's your best? Please, that wasn't even a match," the one with the bizarre hairstyle roared.

"Cough it up, wuss," the other taunted, rubbing his fingers together. "I'd say we'd take that miserable heap of a Pokemon offa your hands instead, but it's not worth it."

The third man looked like he was about to crack the skulls of the first two together, but stopped cold at the sight of the yellow Pokemon starting to run at him. Paling, he threw down the contents of his wallet and ran for it as the creature just barely missed sinking its fist into his stomach.

"Get that monster under control, ya sons a' bitches!" The man howled over his shoulder to the renewed laughter of the others.

Rui's eyes, however, were locked on the yellow Pokemon the whole while. Fear took root in her chest.

An aura the likes of which she'd never seen before engulfed the Pokemon. Black, black, _pitch black,_ it roiled and flared and swelled. It was nothing but complete agitation and chaos and something so uncontrollably primal. Though she was yards away, she could feel a consuming wrath and agony emanating from the strange Pokemon. Even after the men recalled it to a Pokeball, she could feel a lasting imprint of darkness that made her tremble.

Her mind told her to run and never look back.

Her gut feeling told her to investigate.

Perhaps it was the first time her gut feeling was completely, indisputably, utterly stupid.

"H-hey! What's wrong with that Pokemon?"

She clenched her jaw as she marched towards the two men, who leered at her smugly.

"What's it to you? It just gets a little excited about violence, that's all," the one with the hat replied with a cocky grin.

"You must be fresh off the boat, girly," the fire-headed man added, curling his lip into a smirk. "You dunno how things are done here in Orre. You better get right back on that boat an' keep movin', cuz this ain't no place for coddled little girls like you."

A flicker of anger sprung to life inside of Rui. Her hands curled into fists, and despite the little whisper in her mind telling her to leave, leave, leave, she planted her feet and stared them down.

"That isn't what I mean! What's with that dark Aura surrounding that Pokemon? That's not natural at all! It looked evil! Like it was covered in a huge shadow! What did you two _do_ to it?"

Immediately, the smirks slid from the men's faces as they glanced warily at each other. When they turned their gazes back on her, she knew she'd said something very wrong.

"I reckon that's none a' your business, girly," the fire-haired man said, his voice lowered and dangerous. "But I'm real interested in what ya just said, yeah? You said it looked like a shadow, eh? Sounds really weird, huh Trudly?"

"Sure does, Folly," Trudly replied. "I think our boss'd be real interested in it too."

"Say, that's a good idea, Trud," Folly said, a sinister grin forming on his face.

Rui felt fear grip her like a vice. She shuffled back a few short steps, eager to maintain distance from the slowly-approaching duo.

"How 'bout you come with us nice n' quiet-like, girly?" Folly continued. "We got someone who'd just _love_ to meet ya an' hear all about this shadow stuff."

She finally turned to run, but two pairs of hands wrenched her backwards, and a sharp pain to her head hit her before she could scream.


	4. Gonzap- Face the music

**I'm going to try to write as often as I can for this story. The changing of POV's is really refreshing, and it lets scenarios and material come to me a lot easier. So let's see if I can keep a decent pace here.**

 **Edit: Revisioned just a tiny detail, after reviewer Ultimate Black Ace confirmed my concerns on a little discrepancy. Reath and Ferma have replaced Folly and Trudly in this chapter, since they WERE on the other side of the map last chapter.**

 **(~)**

Gonzap's blood pressure was dangerously high. A large fist-shaped hole in the wall of his rather disheveled office could prove that. And if he'd have his way, he'd make a few similar holes through the body of a particular scrawny, traitorous thief.

His grunts were running pell-mell around the now-decrepit hideout. Chunks of ceiling and shards of glass littered the floor- well, more than usual- and the acrid scent of gunpowder and burnt debris hung heavily in the halls. Smoke still rose from the building and contrasted sharply against the bright blue sky. They would have to make tracks if they wanted to avoid being found out. Even Pyrite's meager police force wasn't stupid enough to ignore a pillar of smoke rising up from the middle of the desert.

To think that he'd been double-crossed by that snot-nosed punk. He'd lit up the south side of the hideout with explosives and booked it. And to grind his face into a steaming pile of Tauros shit even further, the son of a bitch had nabbed the Snag Gauntlet before going AWOL as well. The grunt who'd given him that particular report was now out cold with a sizeable lump on his head.

Gonzap wasn't exactly the epitome of anger management. Everyone, including Biden and Wakin, had steered clear of their boss to avoid similar consequences.

His wrath was boiling over.

How dare that little punk! Who did he think he was?! That little shitstain had no idea who he was dealing with. Once Snagem found out where the scummy little Rattata was hiding, he'd deal with him personally and let his Skarmory feast on the bloody remains.

Overcome by his anger, he threw his fist through the wall again, the drywall crumpling pathetically under the force of his punch.

"Oh my, this is quite a mess, now isn't it?"

Temper flaring upwards even more, Gonzap whirled around, bristling and ready to strike. But he was not prepared for who had decided to disturb him.

"Who the _hell_ are you?" He asked, his lip curled in disgust.

The man- was it a man?- _tsk_ 'd, strutting his way into the shellshocked office without invitation. He towered over Gonzap- not an easy feat- with a body reminiscent of a string bean, complete with a golden leisure suit, platform shoes, and topped off with a most ridiculous afro that really belonged back in some godforsaken decade and left to rot.

"Dearie me, that's quite rude," the man protested, swaying his hips to nonexistent music.

"And I really don't give a Raticate's ass," he replied in a louder volume, his temper returning after that brief shock. "Who… the _hell_ … are _you_?"

The man _tsk_ 'd again, finally coming to a standstill and placing a hand on his hip.

"You might want to take it easy, Mr. Macho Man," Afro replied with a snap of his fingers and a lilt in his voice. "I'm with Cipher."

Gonzap swallowed his angry retort, glancing again over Afro with a look of barely-contained disgust.

" _Really_."

"Oh yes," the man smiled, beginning to sway again to some silent beat. "Forgive me, I am known as the fabulous Miror B."

Snagem's leader would have used a word other than 'fabulous'. But Miror B spun on the spot and continued.

"You've met my boys Folly and Trudly, but I don't believe you've had the pleasure of meeting my lovelies. Reath, Ferma, do come in and say hello!"

Distracted as he'd been by the flamboyant disco dancer, Gonzap had failed to notice the two female peons lurking by the doorway. The girl with the dyed-purple hair gave him a simpering smirk while the other girl hardly glanced up from her manicured nails. Gonzap didn't bother hiding his nasty grimace.

"Look, is there any good reason why yer here? 'Cuz I'm pretty busy with some shit that's come up and I'd appreciate it if ya hauled ass outta here."

"Oh yes. I can see that you have some renovation issues to deal with," Miror B said with an ostentatious smirk. "Unless you are going for looking like a trash heap, in which case you Snagem darlings are doing a fine job!"

Gonzap's face turned an ugly shade of maroon, his large fists clenching by his sides.

"But all questionable decisions in hideout design aside, I've come to lay down our conditions with that Snag Gauntlet we dropped off a few days back," Miror B continued pleasantly, still dancing to himself.

Shit.

Silence reigned, with the exception of the constant tapping of the man's platform shoes against the floor. It dragged for a painfully extended while before the man with the afro seemed to pick up on it.

"My, my, you went awfully quiet there, Mr. Man," he said, still in a pleasant air. "Have my dance moves left you starstruck?"

That unstuck his voice. He just managed to avoid snarling an insult, his anger simmering close to the surface.

"We don't have the Snag Machine anymore. Tell your people we need a new one."

A couple seconds of silence fell after he spoke. Ferma and Reath glanced at each other with identically-raised eyebrows. The Miror B laughed, high-pitched and falsetto. Gonzap was really starting to hate him.

"Oh dear, dear, dear. Either I misheard you, or you just told the most hilarious joke!"

The Snagem leader's face looked rather like he'd been force-fed a lemon.

"Some punk kid turned traitor and hit the hideout with explosives, and he took off with the Snag Machine. Until I can track him down and turn him into a smear on the wall, we need a new Snag Machine," he demanded, crossing his arms. The sooner this idiot of a man left the better. He was dangerously close to tearing that afro right off of his head.

Miror B came to a halt again. His wide smile remained in place, but it looked plastered there.

"Girls? Be darlings and do run along without me back to Pyrite. I must head to Phenac to meet up with Folly and Trudly about a certain little lady. But I just need to have a teensy-weensy chat with Mr. Macho here," he called over his shoulder at Reath and Ferma. They shrugged and sashayed down the hall, throwing contemptuous gazes over their shoulders at Gonzap. Once they had left, Miror B clapped his hands together, smiling back at Gonzap.

"Well! That's some bad news, so bad it may give me the blues. But see, you keeping that little-bitty device safe? That was part of the deal, dearie. How might you be planning to pay us back?"

"Pay you back?! How 'bout ya just give us another one?"

"Oh no, no, no. No, that's a big no-no," Miror B replied with a fake pout. "That nifty-keen stealing machine cost Cipher a pretty little penny, it did. And since you were the one to lose it, you are the one that needs to pay us back. Especially since we were ever so nice in giving you a Shadow Pokemon as a loan. You wouldn't want me to take that little present back, would you?"

An ugly vein was throbbing in Gonzap's temple, and his face was heading towards the deep red end of the color spectrum. He reached up and grabbed the collar of the man's leisure suit, yanking him down to eye level and ready to throttle him.

"You threatenin' me, ya damn string bean? I dunno who ya think ya are, waltzin' in here and orderin' me around and tryin' to be all intimidating, but you don't know who you're dealing with. I'm the goddamn leader of Team Snagem. I could bend your spine into a pretzel. I could snap you like a toothpick and be done with ya. Who d'ya think ya are?"

Miror B curled a lip at him, and Gonzap faltered. He was expecting the man to cower and whimper.

"Who am I, honey? I'm a Cipher Admin. I've got the town of Pyrite wrapped around my pinkie finger, darling, and my boss practically runs all of Orre," Miror B's voice was still lilting and sing-song, but his smile was razor-sharp and steely. "I say the word to the higher-up, and you and your adorable little ragtag team of misfits won't be dancing anymore. Sudowoodo, be a dear."

Something rammed into Gonzap's side, and he crashed into his desk. Groaning, he picked himself up, finding himself face-to-face with a very cruel-looking rock type.

"You best find that Snag Machine, Mr. Macho," the Chipher Admin said, dusting off his leisure suit and twisting his way to the door. "Cipher has quite a precious army of Shadow Pokemon now, and if you don't be a dear and find it, I'm afraid you'll have to face the music. If you catch my drift, darling. Come along, Sudowoodo. Ta-ta!"

Gonzap groggily decided on two things. Wes was going to pay for this fifty times over. And the first person he caught listening to disco was going to be thrown in a locked room with his Skarmory.


	5. Umbreon and Espeon- Answer to no one

If there was one way to enjoy the desert, then going at breakneck speeds on the back of a metal monstrosity with the arid desert winds whipping at your face was probably it. The one-wheeled motorbike was a giant middle finger to physics, aerodynamics, and environmentalism. It spat fire and smoke like a Torkoal, and its massive engine was a mixture of pistons, tubes, and the roars of a territorial Tyrannitar.

Had anyone been around to see the metal deathtrap flying past the dunes, they would not have been able to hear the rider let out a whoop of enthusiasm and adrenaline over the rumble of the machinery. But as it was, the two Pokemon sitting in the copilot seat could hear their master just fine. And they could not help but be in similarly high spirits.

As the motorbike tore past the landscape and left eddies of sand in its wake, an Umbreon clambered fearlessly onto the hood of the side car, ears pinned back and leaning sharply forward into the wind. His brother remained in the seat, too used to the dark type's antics to bother worrying about him. But even through the Espeon's cool composure, a satisfied look adorned his face and the red stone on his forehead undulated with excited abandon. Their master's zeal was especially contagious, bouncing through both of them via their close connection cemented further by their nearly telepathic Synchronize ability.

Both Pokemon had been aware of the festering resentment and restlessness that had been building up inside their trainer for months. Whatever Wes felt, they could feel, and they understood him on a level no human had hope to reach. For him to free himself from his invisible shackles to Snagem- with the help of some heavy duty explosive- meant that they also felt relief.

It was good to be on the move again. To answer to no one! To live for themselves! Only trusting their brothers, because brother Wes was to them. Master and trainer, but brother above all.

They owed Wes their lives and he owed them his. Through thick and thin, they relied on each other and no one else.

And they bore their given names with pride. Wes only called them by name when they weren't around others. Their names were symbols of trust. Pride. Promises. Family. No one else set foot in their circle because they didn't need anyone else.

Where they would go next, they knew not. But they would gladly chase the horizon and snatch whatever prizes it held in store, fighting against fortune when they had to.

Perhaps it was not an ideal life.

But what kind of life would that be, anyway?

 **(~)**

 **Short chapter yes, but I've been going through both good things and rough times and very hectic schedules, and I feel like I needed a small something before I got back to Wes' perspective. Also, I revised my old chapter just slightly, changed it so Ferma and Reath accompanied Miror B to see Gonzap rather than Beanie and Burnout.**

 **I hope any fellow Americans had a nice Thanksgiving. My schedule is a bit more manageable this week, so hopefully I will be able to start working on the next chapter rather soon.**

 **-Akira**


	6. Wes- The broadest of hints

It had been about an hour or so when the guttural roars of the scrapheap of a motorbike slowly eased into sputtering growls. Hands easing up on the grips of the handles, Wes coaxed the bike to slow its breakneck pace as the sea of sand beyond was broken by a familiar shape.

Like a ship moored on a bed of coral, a few abandoned train cars stood, the rails that they'd run on long ago swallowed up by the shifting dunes. The winds wore constantly on the rusted, paint-flecked sides of the old train, and a wooden sign dangling from the broken down engine swung back and forth. Before the strange sight were parked an assortment of vehicles in varying conditions- though most of them were rather run down. The sandy-haired rogue finally brought his ride to a halt in front of a rather woebegone gas pump.

This was Outskirt Stand. Many decades prior, the people of Orre attempted to make a way to cross the desert in search of fertile lands on the other side. It did result in finding the oasis that eventually became Phenac, but further past there, it was just sand. Needless to say, railroads did not last long in the shifting sands. The engine that stood abandoned was not the only train to meet this fate in Orre, but it was definitely the most remote. Years later, it was rediscovered and reworked into a watering hole for the various hardy souls who made their homes and their living out past Phenac.

He was a regular here. The owner of this old train engine was a reliable informant of Wes', and in return, he frequented the place whenever he had needed to get away from the frustrations of Snagem.

With a shrill whistle through his teeth, his loyal Pokemon leaped gracefully out of the sidecar, stretching their limbs and arching their backs. He jerked his head towards the stand, and they trotted inside without further instruction.

Minutes later, having filled the tank on his bike and covering it with the tarp he kept in the sidecar, the rogue strolled into the stand himself.

His Espeon and Umbreon were both at the bar, seated on the stools no less, with a bowl of water and Pokemon food in front of each. The owner knew how to treat the two of them. Espeon looked up and greeted his master with a twitch of his forked tail, while the Umbreon merely continued to plow through his meal. Wes slid onto the barstool next to the hungry duo, crossing one ankle over his other thigh. He stretched upwards, his back making a satisfying series of pops before he pushed his shades up onto his forehead.

"Ah, there you are," came a deep, rough voice. A man with burgundy hair tied back under a green do-rag came in from the back room of the small establishment, carrying a rack of freshly washed glasses. "Knew ya couldn't be too far behind these two."

"Marcus." The snagger nodded once in greeting, which the man returned.

"Interesting bit a news ya just missed," Marcus said, a grin in his voice, but his face impassive as he wiped down the bar whilst Wes perused a menu- more out of habit than necessity for the both of them.

"Oh, really?" The young rogue kept his tone mostly indifferent, but a small smirk played across his lips.

"Really. Nearly caused a riot in here," he gestured broadly towards the rest of the makeshift diner. As Wes obliged in a quick glance around the place, it certainly did appear to be in much livelier spirits than usual. One man with shockingly pink-dyed hair raised a mug of beer in the bar's direction, a broad grin on his face.

"'Ey, Marc, how bout ya make everyone's meal on the house today?"

"Just 'cause some schmucks went and got their hideout blown up don't mean I have to stop makin' a livin', Willie," Marcus shot back. Willie shrunk back, mumbling into his mug.

"So how 'bout you, Wes?" the owner turned his attention back onto the rogue, a smirk playing on his face. "Whatcha been up to?"

"Mm, not much, really," Wes said, leaning back on his stool and crossing his arms. "Seems I suddenly have a lot of free time on my hands, though?"

"Issat so?" Marcus replied softly, eyes glancing over the shining metal surface that encased Wes' left arm. He picked up a tray of dirty dishes and started towards the back. "Yer a smart kid, Wes, I'm sure you'll figure out somethin' productive to do."

"Always do, Marc, always do."

Wes' meal arrived shortly and it passed in overall silence. Marcus was one of the few people whom Wes was willing to start a conversation with, but that didn't change his quiet nature. Pleasantries out of the way, and the two didn't have much more to say to each other for the time being.

He preferred it that way, anyway. He wouldn't waste his time on idle small talk, and anything of substance to be discussed definitely didn't merit being discussed while there were extra pairs of ears around.

It wasn't until he heard the sound of an approaching vehicle that his silent lunch was interrupted. Not more than a minute later, the door swung open. From the corner of his eye, Wes immediately could place that fiery atrocity of a hair-do followed by the bizarre beanie of the two that tromped in.

"Shit, I'm starved."

"Well, Boss told us we don't gotta meet him where he had to go. So we got time to pig out 'fore we gotta go back to Phenac."

"Yeah, his 'goods' can wait a bit longer, I reckon!"

Wes surreptitiously slid his left arm towards his opposite side under the guise of itching at a scratch to keep the Snag Machine out of view. Years of being a rogue allowed him the practiced ease of keeping his face completely neutral with his golden eyes trained on his meal while observing them with his peripheral vision.

The two cronies, thankfully, seemed lax- nigh oblivious, actually- guffawing about some joke or another. They didn't so much as glance at Wes as they loudly slouched towards a booth further back in the hollowed train engine. Even if they weren't from Snagem proper, they appeared to be far more at-ease than what should be necessary. If they hadn't heard the news yet about the Snagem Hideout…

"Espeon. Umbreon," he murmured to his companions. The two Pokemon, having long finished with their food, perked their ears up at his quiet call. "Wait for me outside. Don't draw attention."

Without a second of delay, they jumped down from the barstools, Espeon briefly stretching, before the two nudged their way out the door. Despite the ease of their motions, he could tell they were on high alert, and would notify him immediately if the situation turned sour. If any Snagem members showed their faces, he'd make sure to leave a generous trail of sand and exhaust in their faces.

Still, he delayed. He knew better than to draw attention to himself, and finished his greasy, albeit delicious meal at a leisurely pace before slapping a few bills down on the counter. He nodded at Marcus, who returned his silent farewell, and the rogue quietly made his exit.

The first thing he saw was the rusted jeep that he knew belonged to Fireball and Beanie inside. What surprised him, however, was the fact that Espeon was staring at it intently. The lavender Pokemon was unmoving, ears upright, the gem on his forehead glowing slightly.

Glancing back at the diner, Wes carefully made his way closer to the Jeep.

"What's caught your attention so much?"

Espeon's tail flicked, but aside from that, his attention did not waver. Umbreon had joined his comrade, and although his nose twitched, it was clear he was unsure of what had captured the Psychic type's interest so thoroughly.

He crept closer to the vehicle, glancing in and seeing nothing but a bunch of trash littering the front seats. However, the back seat held a different story.

A full sack was nothing new. Knowing their "business deals" with Gonzap, it was likely full of freshly-stolen Pokemon. But would they really just leave their valuable loot unattended like that? They really were idiots.

Wes's piercing eyes widened slightly. He swore he just saw the burlap bag… _twitch_.

His eyes narrowed. Had those cronies resorted to stealing Pokemon outside of their balls? That seemed even more stupid, a Pokemon could easily claw or bite their way through.

At this thought, he glanced at his Espeon, who was now staring him straight in the eyes. Through a mixture of Synchronize and psychic ability, Wes could clearly see the image that Espeon was imprinting onto his mind.

A figure, completely blank in features, but completely, unmistakably human.

"'EY YOU!"

The sudden noise made him step away from the jeep automatically as he whirled around. Though in a moment of dread, he'd anticipated the owners of the dented car, the person whom had hailed him was instead the absurdly pink-haired rider he'd heard Marcus call 'Willie'.

Relaxing, Wes frowned at the unwanted arrival, who was obliviously grinning as he jogged over to the rogue.

"Saw ya talkin' it up with Marcus earlier. Wanted to get a chance to meetcha. Name's Willie," he spouted with a thick southern drawl as he cheerfully extended his hand. Wes just glanced at it indifferently before returning his gaze to the man's face.

"Aw, c'mon, it's not gonna bite," the rider cajoled, raising his hand enticingly further. "Whatcher name, stranger?"

"I don't have to answer that. Stranger," he replied coolly, crossing his arms.

Willie finally gave up on trying to shake his hand, instead holding both of his up. His grin remained, however.

"Alright, I gotcha, I gotcha. Yer one a them tough guys, huh? Tryna keep up that loner reputation, I understand."

He decided he wasn't all that fond of Willie and his inability to take the broadest of hints.

"Great. Glad we got that figured out," Wes replied before turning to leave.

"Ah, hold yer Ponyta, guy, I ain't finished witcha yet!"

 _But_ I _certainly am._

"Actually, it was yer Pokemon that gone an' caught my attention. Ain't no way yer gonna just leave me here without a battle, tough guy!"

Wes glanced back over his shoulder at Willie. He looked at Umbreon, who alone looked ready to take on anything. Espeon's look was more along the lines of 'if we must'.

Finally, he relented with a curt nod.

"Great! Just ya wait, yer gonna be wowed by my pair of Zigzagoon!"

He _had_ to be joking.

 **(~)**

 **Sorry for the wait, things have been rather hectic for me leading up to and since the holidays and new year. Hope it went well for everyone.**  
 **The next chapters won't take as long as this one, I was just mentally stuck a bit here. But I am more eager about the next few, so they'll likely be up in just a couple weeks.**

 **Later!**

 **-Akira**


	7. Rui- An unrepentant sun

There was nothing that registered in her mind except for the only thing it could grasp.

Heat. An all-enveloping, devouring, burning, sickly heat that held fast to every part of her.

How long had she been there?

Time meant nothing to her dazed mind. All she could do was draw in shallow, languished breaths of sticky, stagnant air. She couldn't move. Even if her hands hadn't been bound behind her back, she could not muster the energy. She felt vaguely sick, and any slight movement on her part made another wave of nausea roll over her. She kept her eyes pressed shut. She hardly even recognized that her left arm, trapped under the weight of her body, had long since fallen asleep, nor was she any longer aware of the rough, scratchy burlap fibers that made up her prison were chafing and sticking to her skin.

When she had originally come to, head throbbing and limbs aching, it hadn't taken more than a few seconds for her to begin thrashing. She felt like she'd been suffocating, and her instincts screamed at her to get free. But her efforts had only worsened her conditions, exhausting her energy and making the heat trapped in with her more unbearable. She vaguely remembered being roughly jostled with a jeering order to keep quiet.

She faded in and out of consciousness in the time since then.

A harsher bout of nausea rolled over her as the vehicle she was lying in came to a rather sharp stop.

Where was she now?

She hardly had the energy to whimper as she heard two vaguely familiar voices move closer to her. She heard the tones, but the words sounded like they were coming from under water.

 _Water…_

Two pairs of hands none-too-gently hoisted her prison up and out of the vehicle, and she felt herself swing slightly, suspended. It made her head spin.

 _Water…_

In the midst of her stupor, she was keenly aware of how her tongue felt dried to the roof of her mouth. The heat was unbearable. The ropes on her wrist mingled with the sweat that drenched them mixed to result in a sharp discomfort, but the heat was leagues worse.

 _Water…_

She wanted to cry out. She didn't understand. Where was she? What was happening? Why was there so much heat? She… couldn't… _breathe_.

And suddenly, in a moment of lucidity, her mind made the connection. A dark, consuming aura like wildfire. Two leering faces coming closer. She'd turned to run.

A burst of raw fear tore through the haze, and she lashed out. She bucked and twisted her body, bound legs flinging themselves in any direction she could reach. Her feet met something firm, but yielding, and suddenly the air was knocked out of her as she landed on an unforgivingly solid surface, and starbursts danced across her closed eyes.

It only stopped her for a few moments before she was thrashing again, ignorant to the angered and alarmed protests coming from the two voices.

She had to get free. She couldn't breathe. She was going to die.

Air. Water.

 _Help._

But already, even through her adrenaline spike, the exhaustion was already beginning to reclaim her. Her movements were weak.

In her mind's eye, she saw a Magikarp flopping weakly on dry land under the gaze of an unrepentant sun.

If her body still had the moisture to spare, she would have cried. Her quick, ragged breaths were becoming more shallow, and she could feel her mind growing dim, limbs limp.

 _Help…_

Dazzling brightness caused her to recoil slightly, eyes screwed shut. The heat was still present, but as a warm gust drifted past her face, it felt like a cool breeze. It was only a few moments later that she realized that she'd been pulled out of the sack of rough material, and she was gulping in fresh air as though she had been submerged this whole time.

The voices she heard were different than the ones she associated with cruel leers and suffocating heat. The words were indistinguishable, but something in them told her she was safe. One voice was higher-pitched and fretful. One was lower pitched and almost as worried as the first. The last was the quietest, a little rough, and held no fear, only stern command.

The world spun around her, but at a slower pace. A part of her mind recognized the distant sound of water.

Suddenly, relief. So sudden, it came as a shock. Something damp and cool- so heavenly cool- had been placed across her forehead, swiping the hair that had been plastered to her face aside.

The low voice spoke. It was inquisitive. She struggled to concentrate, and her mind fumbled to latch onto the words.

"..n….y.u…it…up?"

Face scrunching, she squinted her eyes open to peer up at a blurred form. Sandy yellow and dark blue. She couldn't make out much more than that. Her eyes squeezed closed again from the blinding light.

"…ne..d yo…to..rink th..s"

Her world tilted off-kilter as her upper body was lifted up somewhat, and something was held up to her lips.

"Water."

That word cut clear through her daze. The magic word brought her back closer to consciousness, and she fought to open her eyes again, squinting into the sunlight. A bottle was hovering in front of her, and the owner of the voice was looking carefully down at her with golden eyes.

 _What a bright color._

But she couldn't make out further details. She could focus on his aura better than she could see his face. It hung before his form like a thick heat shimmer. It wasn't evil or sickly like the dark one she'd seen, and it wasn't cruel like the ones flickering about the two men from before.

It was strange, it was unpredictable, it was strong. And something else.

Automatically, her mouth opened, and clear, fresh, cold, perfect water splashed onto her tongue. She craved as much of it as she could drink, and tried to gulp it down. However, the bottle was pulled back. She made a small noise of protest, but the golden-eyed person stared at her sternly.

"Small sips."

After realizing he was not taking away her source of relief, she acquiesced, taking in small mouthfuls of water and relishing the feeling of it rushing down her throat and cooling her from the inside. As she sipped, he spoke, but to the other voices. Focused on the water, she did not pick out the words that were said.

Finally, the bottle was empty, and she felt fatigue washing back over her.

More voices were approaching, but she was tired, so tired.

She managed to keep her eyes open a few moments longer, staring at the aura in front of her, trying to figure out what else could be read from it. Her lips lifted into a thin, weary smile. Rui's eyes closed, succumbing to sleep.

 _It was trustworthy._

 **(~)**

 **Sorry for the wait. Lots of things have been going on in my life lately, good and bad, and I have been working every day of every week for the past couple months.**

 **I hope that things will settle down soon.**

 **Thought about having another chapter squeezed in before this from the POV of Trudly and Folly, but I scrapped it because it felt too unnecessary.  
Poor Rui. I can't imagine what it would be like to be stuffed in a burlap sack in the heat of a desert for who knows how many hours. So her first meeting isn't exactly coherent...  
Next chapter will be Wes again.**

 **-Akira**


End file.
